


That's What You Get for Waking Up In Thedas

by CathyFowl



Series: Thedosian Works In Progress [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Crack, Bear Punching, Bears, Crack, Drinking, Dying over and over again sucks, F/M, Food, Glitches, Hinterlands, Let the crackships sail, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Modern Girl in Thedas, New pairing revealed, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Spoilers, Swearing, The Fade, Varric Tethras' Nicknames, Video Game Mechanics, What Have I Done, even if it doesn't hurt, the plot thickens!, time is fluid here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-04-22 09:26:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 10,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14305722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CathyFowl/pseuds/CathyFowl
Summary: This is not the Thedas you were looking for.Aka, the crackfic no one asked for, where the game is too real. Plot coming soon!





	1. Modern Girl in Thedas

I wake up in a cellar. No, a dungeon. Cold, wet, in pain.

I recognize the dark-haired woman who is shouting at me, as Cassandra Pentaghast. "Explain _this_!"

I recognize the painful, green-glowing gash on my left palm as the Anchor.

I recognize the purple-hooded figure as Leliana. "A woman?"

I try to swallow down my panic.

_Stick with the script. Play along. It'll all be fine, just fine, everything's **fine**... oh gods._

Leliana leaves for the Forward Camp and Cassandra exchanges my manacles to ropes.

I see the Breach for the first time and it is terrifying beyond imagination.

I swear I'll help. Do my best. "Whatever it takes." (I do not expect to live out the hour.)

I'm cut loose outside the outer gates and we take off at a jog. Cassandra is in the middle of her recollection of how I was found, "They say a woman was in the rift behind you...," when we reach the bridge. I'm too preoccupied with watching my step, (the snowy path is too slippery, especially while running,) and I'm tumbling down before I even register the bridge exploding.

"Stay behind me!" Cassandra yells and she's off to fight the first Shade. I'm left to frantically hunt for a weapon, to have any chance against the second one emerging a few feet away.

I find a mage staff, half buried under the cracked open supply crate. I'm happy to be a mage for all of half a second, before remembering that I know nothing about how to _do_ magic.

I try to jerk the staff free, a big stick is still better than nothing. It doesn't even budge, however, and I lose my footing on the ice, just as the second Shade reaches me.

I'm torn to shreds by its sharp claws in seconds.

 

 

Everything goes black. The music swells. Nothing hurts anymore. I must be dead.

Then a voice.

"Are you all right?" It asks. "Did I hurt you?"

I open my eyes and see the hideous form of the Shade leaning over me with a look of... _worry_?

"I didn't mean to. But they set the difficulty to Nightmare mode, so..." its explanation trails off at my horrified expression.

I scream.


	2. Game Over

"Seeker," the Shade shouts over its shoulder. "We have a problem!"

Cassandra comes running. The first Shade behind her is wringing its clawed hands. It's such a human gesture that I feel even more disoriented.

"What's going on?" Cassandra asks.

"Why aren't you killing them???" I screech at her.

She looks at me startled.

"Because we're in Game Over screen, of course," she says, like it's the most natural thing. Like being in a video game means you only have to worry about appearances while the camera is focused on you. Like it's all just a... game.

"Wha... What... why..." I stumble over questions and only just realize that the music is still playing. That the music _had been playing_ all this time. A subtle background atmosphere to the battle. Except this one is kind of annoying when you're trying to think clearly. "Does this music ever fucking shut off???"

Cassandra guffaws and the second Shade grins. I can't decide which one is more disturbing.

"Don’t worry, Lav," says the Shade. "It does get quieter when they put away the game. You okay then?"

I nod and _very_ reluctantly take its clawed... hand... and get to my feet.

"I'm Bob, this is Laurie," the Shade introduces himself and his fellow demon.

"Ugh... Nice to meet you. I'm Leigh, Leigh Carter," I say warily.

"You're not Lavellan?" Cassandra asks.

"Ugh... no, I'm not... from around here..." I tell her hesitantly.

"But you did the lines so well!"

"Thank... thank you," I'm uncertain if it's meant as a compliment or not.

 

The music cuts off, a brief moment of complete blackness and...

 

I'm falling from the bridge that had just exploded under me and Cassandra.

"Stay behind me!" she yells and runs off to fight the first Shade. I frantically look for a weapon to have a chance against the second one, that is emerging from the green Fade ooze just a few feet away.

I find the mage staff and free it from the rubble, ready to fight for my life.

Bob winks before attacking.


	3. Whispering Wisps

It takes some time to get the hang of casting spells. I end up doing a lot of dancing around the Shades. When I inevitably die, we get a brief moment of respite from combat and they introduce themselves.

So far I've met Bob and Laurie, Sherry and John, and a very unimpressed Larry. (They seem to take turns in playing the role of the Shades.) I know that I'll never be able to remember all their names, let alone be able to tell them apart just by sight. They have remarkably normal voices though. No demonic growls outside of gameplay. Lovely accents too.

The wisps are silent. Or rather, they keep to themselves and engage in furtively whispered conversations in their own little circles. It's unnerving.

Cassandra is trying to untangle why I am not Lavellan, even though I'm playing a Dalish Inquisitor. She first thought I was just a custom protagonist. Not Ellana, but still an actor in the role. It's hard to keep up a conversation that's held entirely only in Game Over screens.

 

"We're getting close to the rift. You can hear the fighting." Cassandra says as we ran up some more stone steps.

Ah. We're about to meet the Egg... I wonder if he is as nonchalant about the game mechanics as Cassandra seems to be.

Considering how much running around and fighting we are doing, I expected to be completely exhausted by now. But, as Bob pointed out, there's no pain and I'm not tiring. There's also no blood. The "Player" must have Persistent Gore turned off. (A choice after my own heart.)

"Who's fighting?" It's food for thought as to why my voice still sounds like my own.

"You'll see soon. We must help them."

And then we're at the glowing green slash in the fabric of reality and I'm so glad that I can't stop and gawk, that I have to fight and not think. I'll have time to break down after the Egg helps me close it.

Instead, I manage to trip over some rubble and Bob gets me. Again.


	4. That River in Egypt

"Is it me? Is it the Player?? WHY DO I KEEP DYING???" I burst out as Bob helps me to my feet. (I shy away from the familiarity I'm starting to feel toward the Demon.) "It can't be normal to die so many times in the Intro!"

Cassandra raises her hands, trying to calm me. I'm having none of it. Then, out of nowhere, I'm face to blade with Solas' staff.

"Who are you?!?"

Oookayy. That is _not_ good. His voice is cold as ice and his eyes are slightly glowing pale blue. _Not good at all._

"I... I’m..." I stutter.

Bob pushes Solas' staff down and away from my face.

"Easy there, Wolf," Bob says in his jovial brogue. I think he's smiling too. It's hard to tell with the hood and the non-face. "She's new here. We'll figure it out but..."

 

 

The music swells and we're back on the steps, Cassandra and I, doing our little dialogue, before coming up to the rift.

This time I stay as far back as plausible and lob my few spells from a distance. When Solas' barrier settles over me, I shudder. It feels like a cool breeze. I'm 99% sure he's forced to do it, and would not, in fact, try protecting me if it was entirely up to him.

I try not to dwell on how much we are all just puppets during gameplay. _Later. Freak out about it all later._

When the last Shade falls, (I think it's Larry, but I really can't tell them apart,) I'm suddenly next to Solas and he's grabbing my wrist and pushing it towards the rift.

Closing it _hurts_. But the rift does close. And Solas has that little smirk on his face and I wanna believe it's genuine, but I remember the cold glare from only minutes ago too clearly.

We banter, I make funny and Solas-approved dialogue choices, and try not to wonder too much, whether it's because the Player chose them or because they are the only words I remember. Or if those are one and the same.

_Freak out later._

Then the cutscene is over, we're ready to move on and...

 

The world goes all black for a second and the music cuts off.

And then, I'm standing on a mountainside, with a pissed off Elf, a grumpy Seeker, a protective Dwarf, two Shades and two Soldiers (who have conveniently disappeared during the cutscene.)

"Finally, they saved and quit," Cassandra sighs.


	5. Like Fungus

The sudden sensory feedback is the most jarring. After the music cuts off, I'm left with an oppressing silence until the sounds of the wildlife seep back in. I’m feeling cold for the first time since waking up. I'm wary and my muscles are sore, just holding my staff is an impossible chore. I grab it with both hands and lean on it, trying to catch my breath.

"You shouldn't be here!" Solas says and I'm reeling from trying to rewrite my expectations about him.

"Oh, hush, Chuckles," Varric waves him off and starts back toward Haven. "It's not like she chose to be here..." He gives me a sideways glance, "or did you?"

"No, I did not," I huff and drag myself into motion. Turning my back on the Egg feels wrong, but I'm too tired to care anymore. I'm this close to losing it as is, I don't need to get paranoid about Solas' weird reaction to me.

And the way back is so much worse when you actually feel the cold wind blowing through your makeshift armor. Cassandra passes me a small vial of green liquid.

"Regeneration formula," she says as I take it with a raised eyebrow. "It helps after the fights." She downs one of her own and, as I glance back, so do Varric and Solas.

We had fallen into formation, with me leading the procession, probably out of habit. The two soldiers had left the other direction, headed for the Forward Camp, I guess.

"So, do you remember how you got here?" Varric asks. As icebreakers go, it's not the best choice.

"No," I say. He gives me a look. "Okay," I sigh and elaborate. "I don’t remember how I got here. But I do know what happens to the Herald. I'm not... from around here. This whole thing is a game where I'm from."

It seems ridiculous, explaining the same thing every Modern Girl in Thedas must, sooner or later, and be met with bored nods.

"Well, of course it is. Helluva game too," Varric waves a hand. "I still can't decide if it's better or worse than Kirkwall was."

"You..." I don't know how to ask. "You had the same.... experience... in Kirkwall??"

"Not quite the same, but close, yes," Varric nods.

"Not the same at all," barks Cassandra. "He got to play hero in Kirkwall, while also narrating the whole mess."

"To you, my dearest Seeker," Varric winks. I look between them confused. "You know you loved my tales. I've grown on you."

"Yes," Cassandra snorts. "Like fungus."

It's the same banter from the game. But the dynamics are so different. They seem... playful, instead of being antagonistic or sarcastic. Like this is a conversation they often have. It feels friendlier than I'm used to from them. Especially so early in the game.

And then Varric gives Cassandra a butt slap, before walking ahead. Cassandra blushes deep red but does not, in fact, chop the dwarf in two. I gape.

Cassandra clears her throat and ushers me along at a quicker pace.

"We should try to get back before sunset," she says, while Solas just rolls his eyes.

_What in the Maker's name have I gotten myself into?_


	6. The Last Straw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank you all for the lovely comments!  
> I'd also like to take the opportunity for a bit of a poll. I'm having trouble keeping up with the first-person view. Is it okay, to rewrite with third-person POV? (And maybe include guest viewpoints from the Companions?)  
> *writer doubting herself, nothing new XD*
> 
> Anyways, Enjoy!

Haven is quietly busy. Nobody is bothered by our swift return. Nobody questions our spotless armor or my sudden freedom. Nobody bows to me, thank God, (or the Maker, or whatever,) and no one calls me 'Herald' or 'Your Worship'.

Everybody just goes about their business. Elves work together with humans, dwarves with a handful of qunari. It is... peaceful.

It’s about dinner time, but I decline an offer to join Cassandra and Varric in the Singing Maiden. I feel too queasy with nerves to eat anything, and I don't think that alcohol is a good idea either. I head for the Herald's hut instead and wonder how much time I will have, to have a meltdown and still be ready for when I'm needed.

I open the door with a sigh, fantasizing about a soft bed and warm duvet and...

 

And find myself presented with an admittedly fetching view of a half-naked Commander in a passionate embrace with Samson.

 

My brain takes a long moment to process the view. Just enough for them to notice and scramble to cover themselves. Well, Cullen does.

"I- Inquisitor!" He stutters, blushing deep red over the flush of passion.

Samson just grins his creepy, self-satisfied grin.

"We didn't expect ya back so soon."

I turn on my heel and leave without a word.

I need bleach. Brain bleach. And somebody to explain just what the _fuck_ is going on?!?

 

I barely have the self-control to knock on Solas' door, and no patience to wait for an answer before entering. Thank heavens he is dressed and is sitting by his desk, pouring over some giant, ancient tome.

"There are people fucking in my room and I don't know what's going on, and I know if anybody can explain it's you, or at least you'll put me out of my misery. I mean, Samson! Why is he here? With his creepy red lyrium gaze? Isn’t he the enemy? Why was he about to fuck Cullen, instead of being impaled on his sword? No pun intended, it’s not funny, I can’t...." the words spill out of me and I drop to my knees, in the middle of his room, and have a mental break down complete with ugly sobbing, and incoherent babbling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hands out brain-bleach and/or art supplies*


	7. Meltdown

Solas recites poems at me.

Okay, it might not be actual poems, just that his speech is doing that weird rhythmic thing... _Iambic pentameter_! That’s the thing! It's distracting. His voice is distracting. It’s a welcome distraction. He furrows his brows and asks me a question.

"Wha...?" I mumble. I feel faint and tired and sobbed out and just wanna sleep.

He raises a glowing hand to my forehead and my thoughts clear a little.

"This world is affecting you. You need rest," he says and this time I can concentrate enough to understand his words. "You should return to your room and sleep."

"I'm not going to _ever_ sleep in that bed!" I burst out and Solas raises an eyebrow. "Don't look at me like that! Cullen and Samson were... they were.... ugh!" I blush furiously, still wishing for brain bleach. “Why is he even here?”

"Oh."

The small, quiet word says everything. Solas knows exactly what I mean, and apparently, it's a _thing_. Wonderful!

"Please, can I just stay here? I'll sleep in the corner, or under the desk," I plead with him. "Just don't make me go back, please!"

He frowns and murmurs something that, I'm pretty sure, is in Elvhen and is not suited to be repeated in polite conversation. I hope he's cursing out the two Commanders and not me.

Commanders... Why is Samson even here? Why is he not in a cell or something? Has the whole of Thedas gone mad? I need answers! But not now. Maybe after some rest.

I'll need to ask questions. And be on my guard, probably... Solas still seems to be the least dangerous person. He didn't bristle over being called "Wolf" by that Shade... Bob. (Bob was nice. I wonder if we'll run into him again.) And apart from greeting me with a staff blade in my face, he's mostly just acting like a Greatly disapproving!Solas from the game. Grumpy, but still doing his best to help the Inquisition.

And the Inquisition needs the Herald, who is now me.

I should be fine, just _fiiiine~~_.

"Fine," Solas echoes my thoughts and throws be a thread bare blanket. "You can have the spare chair."

I don't even debate over the floor being a better spot for sleeping. I bundle myself into my borrowed blanket and curl up into a tight ball on the chair. I fall asleep almost instantly and sleep a dreamless sleep...

 

Until I'm on the side of a mountain, surrounded by my companions, the snow is falling endlessly, and the first strands of the music of the Main Menu start to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been brought to you by self-doubt, writer's block, all the amazing Dragon Age fics on this wonderful site, and my complete inability to understand how Iambic Pentameter works in English. (One day... one day...)
> 
> <3


	8. Glitch

The fighting goes easier this time. I'm still exhausted and sore from sleeping in a chair, but we make progress. Spells are easier to cast and they have better effects. (I briefly wonder if the Player has lowered the difficulty. But it's hard to think outside the game while mid-combat.)

As I no longer die after every other battle, we don't get to chat. I still catch an occasional grin (and wink? I seriously can't tell without a more _humanoid_ face) from Bob.

At the Forward Camp, I choose the Mountain Path, even though I really wish I could forego climbing all those ladders. There's a brief look from Chancellor Roderick, that I'm pretty sure falls "off camera", but which I can't make heads or tails of. He looks... abashed? (Great, another mystery to add to my growing pile of questions.)

Weird time jumps get us up to the bottom of the Mountain Path, so we only need to climb a little bit of the steep, snow-covered hill. The ladders are as many and as tedious as I've remembered. The fighting goes well and I get to do a bit of looting (Dragonthorn and Dawn Lotus! Yayy!) They just disappear when I touch them, but at this point, I'm getting used to the weirdness of living with the in-game mechanics.

The scouting party looks genuinely grateful for the rescue, and I even manage to dodge out of the way of the Terror Demons and not get killed. (After all the friendly Shades, I'm disappointed that I can't chat with them.)

Finally, we make it to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

 

The voice of Corypheus is terrifying up close like this. I'm already dreading meeting him in the flesh when Haven falls.

The Pride demon, however...

Please don't judge, but I've always had a thing for its laugh. It... resonates to my core and... it’s very distracting while trying to battle it. It gets a few good hits in before I pull my head out of the gutter and remember the best strategies for defeating it. Runaway, deal with the small fry. When possible, disrupt the rift to stun the demon and lay on the big abilities while its guard is down.

A simple and trusted strategy that works wonders even on a higher difficulty. Except when I try to run away, circling the central column and getting out of the Pride demon's line of sight, the whole world _pixelates and glitches_ , and the next moment I'm right in front of the demon, its guard is full up and I'm throwing Flashfire at it, that has no chance of doing any significant damage, while it laughs and summons a big ball of lightning.

What. The. _FuCK_?!?


	9. Puppet

I manage to dodge that first ball of electricity, but another couple of minutes later 'I’m flat on my back, cursing up a storm in as many languages as I can muster.

"Andraste's dimpled buttcheeks," Varric swears after peeling me up from the stone cobbles of the ruined Temple. "Are you alright, Squish?"

The Pride Demon is laughing in earnest. It turns out it's Larry. Bob is hushing him and berates him for being a dick. (Of course, Bob says it much more nicely because he's sweet like that.)

"What was that _glitching_???" I ask.

I'm surprised when Solas answers.

"You have tried to act under your own initiative during gameplay. The game corrected it." His voice is cold and resigned.

"How do you know?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at the elf. "Have you tried to do the same before?"

Solas doesn't answer, just leans on his staff and stares out into the distance. The melancholy effect is ruined by the fact that we're surrounded by the ruins of the Temple, so the farthest "distance" is a dozen yards before the crumbled walls cut off the view.

"So I have to just... be puppeteered around?" I say, incredulous. "Even if I'm led to my death? How am I supposed to be okay with that?"

"None of us are okay with it!" Solas yells back. I flinch away from him. I don’t think I've _ever_ heard him yell. Not in anger or frustration or despair. It was... scarier than facing down a leering Pride demon.

"Solas is right," Cassandra says. "We just have to deal with it."

 

I think about that little exchange through the whole second try of that fight. I’m kept far away from all the action again, lobbing useless, badly timed magic at the demon and running away at the first sign of trouble. Cassandra is tasked with protecting me, I think, and without any other heavy hitters, it takes forever to bring down the Pride demon and try to close the Breach.

When Cassandra yells "Now! Seal the rift!” I grit my teeth and put all my concentration into closing the Breach. It hurts, I feel like I'm being sucked dry and then, just when I think I might overpower the game after all and close the damned thing, it explodes and I'm sent flying, unconscious before I hit the rocks.


	10. Dreaming

I'm in my room, sitting in front of my computer. I'm in the character creation screen in Dragon Age: Inquisition. I'm making my 5th or 6th Lavellan. She _has to_ be perfect this time. I'm finally going to commit to romancing Solas... all the way.

But I can't seem to get Lavellan's hair right. Or maybe it's her forehead?

She has to be perfect. They'll have to be perfect. This time for sure.

 

I'm standing in front of a magical mirror. I'm fiddling with my hair again. It wasn't the right shade of dark red. I missed a notch and it turned out almost carrot coloured. It just _had to_ be fixed.

I move onto my ears. I like them longer and more sharply angular. Just the right shape. Yes. Elves are really the best. So sleek and sinuous. And their ears! And their huge eyes!

I love these eyes. Their green colour is finally discernible. I first thought of making them Fade!green, but I think I prefer this darker shade.

"Well," says a rough, scratchy voice behind me, as I finally turn from the mirror. "I'm obviously in no position to judge." I smile at Xenon's antics. He's just upset that I often come for just the mirror and don't spend enough money here. Or bring something unique for his collection.

 

I'm standing over the broken remains of the Orb of Fen'Harel. It all feels like a bad dream. I must be in shock.

_He left._

But everything was going perfectly well. Everything seemed fine... We never went to Crestwood. We never broke up, so why? _Why did he have to leave?_

I pick up one of the bigger pieces of the useless orb and throw it with all my strength against a broken pillar. I feel no satisfaction when it shatters into a million pieces.

 

I'm in my room, in Skyhold, in the castle _he_ gave us.

I'm cold all the time these days. Always so cold. I just wanted him to be finally mine.

"Do you want him still?" A sweet voice hums. "What would you give if you could be together forever?"

"I would give everything," I say without hesitation. "I would give the world!"

 

 

I wake up to sounds of shattering glass. I'm in Haven, in my room. The elven servant girl grovels while I dismiss her worries and ask about the people's feelings about me.

In the few moments between her retreat, and me being ready to leave the hut and face the villagers, I wonder about my dream.

And I dread its meaning.


	11. Waking Nightmare

The Player must be really bored and/or too impatient, because I stumble as my artificial momentum suddenly disappears. I blink, startled, and walk back to my bed. I eye the sheets critically before sitting on the edge of the mattress. I stifle a hysterical giggle. It's memory foam. Under the cream-colored, slightly vintage looking sheets, it is memory foam.

I run my hands over my face and try to find my equilibrium. I feel like I'm two people at once. And none of them is the Lavellan who was supposed to be here. I turn and grin madly at the corvid in its cage in the corner.

"I've gone mad. It must be it," I say to it. "There's no rational answer for this other than complete madness." I start cackling and don’t stop for a long while.

 

In time, my stomach lets me know that hunger is still a thing that happens, and I steel myself for leaving my hut and walking to the tavern in search of food.

To my relief, the village is back to going about its business in peace. I get a few nods in greeting, which I timidly return, but nobody speaks to me. Varric isn't at his tent and a look up to the Apothecary confirms that Solas isn't just hanging around outside in the snow either.

I take a deep, steadying breath before I open the door to the Tavern and enter with my head held high.

 

It's..., the sight that greets me..., well.

There is Madame de Fer and Dorian, sitting at a table, arguing about fashion. My mind shies away from the third figure at their table, even though, his high-heeled boots and striped stockings are the center of the discussion. It's just too much. Or maybe it's just what I need.

I stroll in and plop myself onto the fourth, empty seat at their table, without a word. I order Mystery Stew from Flissa, and she giggles and winks at my choice.

"And a bottle of your strongest liquor," I add.

The table has fallen silent. Dorian is studying me from behind his wineglass. Vivienne is making a face that I'm pretty sure is the Orlesian equivalent of subtle disapproval. I ignore them both for the moment and turn my full attention to the third figure.

"So, Talking Shades, fine," I begin. "Whispering wisps? Creepy, but okay. The resident elven apostate almost skewering me on his staff? Not the kind of greeting I was expecting, but whatever. The Inquisition's Commander screwing the Red Templar Leader? One of the more ‘guilty pleasure’ type of pairings, but if they are safe, sane, and consensual, far be it from me to get in the way of their happiness."

Flissa arrives with my drink, and I down the first glass without checking what it actually is. It burns all the way down and the tiniest, still sane part of my mind starts to object at my plan to drink away this fucked up reality.

But I clear my throat and continue.

"A Shade who also plays a Pride Demon? Sure! Reality glitching so my brilliant strategy is rendered useless? Kinda on the fence about that, but it pales next to this wonderful scene," I say. "See, I walked in, hungry and feeling insane and thought, "Oh, some food and a warm drink will set me right!" But nooooo. Because what I walk in on _this_ time, is you. Fucking _Corypheus_ , discussing the latest Minrathous fashion with the only two mages, who display a good sense of style!"

"And your point is?" Corypheus, in all his 8-foot, red lyrium crystal ridden glory, calmly asks.

"My point is that not even this bottle of the most excellent Antivan brandy will be enough to set things right."


	12. Food and drink and good company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written this during class and typed it up on my phone during the break. I'm extra sorry for any remaining typos.

It soon turns out that I was wrong. It takes only three drinks and I'm leading the argument on how wasted those amazing stockings of Corypheus really are. Great Easter Egg, sure, but so hard to glimpse under his robes.

It must be some really fine brandy that Flissa got me. I was just bluffing about it being Antivan, but I'm starting to entertain the idea that I might be right. I wish I could read the label.

I might also just be a lightweight. Probably the latter. To be fair, I very rarely drink. And while I'm sticking to a single finger per glass, it _is_ hard liquor.

Not even the Mystery Stew can soak up all the alcohol. And it's not even that mysterious. It's obviously druffalo. Tho it tastes better than any beef stew I've ever had. Even the weird, unidentifiable veggies are delicious. Oh! Maybe it's the veggie that's a mystery! Yes, that must be it!

And the freshly baked bread that came with the stew! I haven't eaten bread in _years!!_ I lived on rice and pasta at home. Always wanted to bake my own bread tho. But damn, this bread, this is _AMAZING!_ Crisp crust, soft and fluffy inside. Mmmmmmhhhnnnmmnhh…

“Leigh, you look like you're making love to that slice of bread,” Varric chuckles. He joined us after drink #2… I think. “It's a bit disturbing.”

“But it's soooooo gooood,” I drawl.

Cassandra makes a ‘disgusted noise’ and downs the rest of her ale. She joined after drink #3. I'm sure. Coz I've greeted her with a huge grin and declared that she and Varric are the best and I'm so happy they're a couple and she'd better not ever stab him in the book again.

I start slurring my argument at drink #5. I'm sure I'm forgetting something, but I'm full, no longer cold, and Vive has promised to get me a proper wardrobe. Basically, I'm in heaven.

Corypheus is telling me, with great solemnity only a fellow drink could master, that he'll be bigger at the fall of Haven, and I shouldn't be scared and he'll be gentle. I almost fall off my chair, I'm giggling so hard over the unintended, and frankly horrifyingly innuendo.

A great tankard of water lands in front of me and I'm steadied by a slender-fingered hand. I like Solas’ hands…

“You should take better care, da’len,” he says and takes a seat next to me. Ever the grumpy elder.

“You used to be fun!” I whine. “Whyyyy, why you no fun no more??”

Solas just frowns and pointedly pushes the water into my hands. I drink. I haven't realized how thirsty I am. Alcohol does dry you out.

“Thank you, hahren,” I grin and plant a kiss of gratitude on Solas’ cheek. He stares at me in surprise, then frowns. Again. Still…?

“Don't make that face. You'll be stuck that way,” I giggle.

“I think it's best if you end the night here,” he says.

“Noooo….” I'm protesting very ferociously. “I haven't heard Varric’s tale of that one time when they…” I trail off at the severe look Solas gives me.

“Don't worry, Leigh, I'll tell you later,” Varric says.

“You promise?”

“My word as a storyteller.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Happily gathers all kudos and comments around herself and noms on the cookies.*


	13. Haven

Finishing the intro the next day, with a raging hangover, is quite a ride. At least there's no more combat for a while. The shouting match between Chancellor Roderick, Cassandra and Leliana does nothing for my headache, but afterwards, it's almost easy.

I finally meet Josephine, and I sorely wish I could properly greet her and introduce myself, instead of using only my predetermined dialogues. Cullen is doing his best, but I can see him squirming in embarrassment from the corner of my eyes, every time the camera moves away from him. It's jarring, if I watch for it, to see people fall out of character as the story focus shifts.

So I try to keep my own focus on the story and roll with it. It's a bit of a reprieve after lasts night. It was fun, to vent my frustration to sympathetic ears, but now it's only a game again and I can sit back and enjoy all the conversations and small errands around Haven.

I talk to _everyone_. Flirting with Cullen is as awkward as usual. Perhaps even more so in the light of his relationship with Samson. I send a small prayer to whatever kind of Maker might listen, that I'm not forced to _romance_ our dearest Commander.

Trying to flirt with Cassandra is fun and we talk until all dialogue options are exhausted again. With Varric, I get to be caught up on some of the worldstate with the questions about Hawke and crew. I catch a wink from him as I turn to walk past the Tavern and up the stairs to Solas.

A chill runs down my spine, not for the first time this day.

It's perhaps the most contradictory conversation I had all day (and I've already talked to Leliana.) Solas puts on the perfect mask his character demands in these early days, but beyond that, his gaze is hard and wary. It's fun and tiring at the same time, to try to communicate through just our eyes, while having a rollercoaster of a conversation going at the same time. He _Disapproves_ , and I find out what the chills plaguing me all day were: Quick Save.

I think I haven't noticed them before because of the heat of the battles. Now, however, the world blinks black for the briefest moment, and I catch an exasperated sigh from Solas, before I'm heading past the tavern again and starting the dialogue with him. All over again. And again. Until I give all the right answers and gain all the approval he's willing to give this early in the game.

At least some of my worry over the Commander eases with all the smooth flirting with Solas. I hope, I dearly hope...

The rest of the day is spent hunting for elfroot, iron ore and nugs. My new armor in much more comfortable, but I'm also more used to wearing armor in the first place. It's strange to go about the Herald's business for hours on end, without tiring, or without time moving. (The sun has been in the exact same spot all day.) But it's also surprisingly disappointing when the game's finally off and I'm standing in the middle of the bright morning sun of Haven, with a wary hangover still skulking at the back of my head and with muscles suddenly sore from running around all day.

"I can't wait to get to the Hinterlands," I sigh to myself and head to the Apothecary for some elfroot potion.


	14. Hinterlands

"Of _course_ I'm allergic to all this greenery," I get out between bouts of sneezing. "I'm not even surprised anymore!"

Scout Harding just chuckles and offers me her hanky. I gratefully take it and dab at my watering eyes. It takes all my self-control not to start rubbing at them until they are red and puffy. Well, redd _er_ and puffi _er_ than they already are.

The Hinterlands is a lot greener closer up. We arrived through the cutscene, which was weird, and I was pumped about meeting new people. I was less enthusiastic by the end of the day though.

New people included Scout Harding, whom I didn't get to talk to beyond the script until later; Mother Gizelle, who turned out to be even more pious than I remembered; and a _lot_ of Templars and Mages.

The first fight was hard. Watching demons disintegrate in battle is one thing. Watching the same happen to people is... unsettling, to say the least. I'm only consoled by the fact that the mage girl I've electrocuted with Chain Lightning has come over during the communal dinner and when she saw my distress, she reassured me that the "onscreen lightning barely tickled". Her name is Bo and she’s a big fan of the Inquisition, apparently.

We have cleaned out the Templar Encampment and the Apostate Stronghold and did odd jobs in between. And now we are camping together with everybody. I catch sight of one of the templars whom Varric had brought down with a bolt to the knee. He's chewing the dwarf out for, apparently, always aiming at his knee. I stifle a giggle over the man’s fear for his adventuring days.

"So," Harding asks as I finally get a hold on my sneezing. "Beyond the allergies, how do you find the Hinterlands?"

"Beautiful, to be honest," I sigh. "Although there's less elfroot than I've expected. And I haven't met the bears yet, so I can't form a final opinion." She laughs at my assessment.

"And how about the horses?" She asks. We had managed to get as far as Master Dennet before looping back to deal with the Templars.

"It's a bit unnerving that Bentley can talk..." I say hesitantly. I glance over my shoulder to where my 'loyal steed', a young gelding called Bentley, is nibbling at a patch of grass. When he first spoke, after appearing from nowhere as the game quit, I almost had a heart-attack.

"Oh, not all the horses talk, don't worry," Harding says. "Just the Inquisitor's mounts."

Great! I look forward to meeting the talking Greater Nuggalope. Not.

"Lovely," I squeak. Harding just laughs.

All in all, people are taking my weird and sometimes extreme reactions to the game mechanics in stride. They don’t ask questions beyond the occasional ‘Are you alright?’, after being flattened by giant warhammers or nearly cut into two with greatswords. Fighting is still strange. There's a numbed feeling of the wounds, as my HP drops, but after the game is turned off, only faint soreness remains and the utter exhaustion from continually fighting and running around for longer than anybody should. Both of which is easily helped by downing an elfroot potion.

Cassandra is still babying me a little. She makes sure I eat and drink my potion and rest. Varric is catching me up on world events, so I'm not so clueless about things I should have intimate knowledge about. And Solas... Solas usually just glares at me. But he pretty much glares at everybody and everything. Bentley says he's jealous. Of what, I've no idea.


	15. Bears

Hinterlands, day 2.

 

I've met the bears.

They are bigger. A lot bigger. I don't know how so much animal can exist as one entity. At least they don't talk. I think I would've run screaming if they've started speaking too. Cassandra did punch one though. But only because it stepped on her sword and ate part of her shield.

So, bears. Huge. Really big. We brought down three and I don't think I'm ever going to be cold again if I get to keep at least one pelt. Cassandra says that Harrit usually deals with the skins and I should ask him about getting one.

After the bears, we looped back to Master Dennet's again, in search of the lost Druffalo. And I fell off the waterfall. Fall damage is a bitch. And I can't swim.

One of the Greater Terror demons ended up fishing me out from under the water. I spluttered my thanks at it and _she_ , after making sure I was not drowning anymore, introduced herself as Hedwig.

"Very nice to meet you, Hedwig," I said between splutters. She was really nice about it and kept her big, twiggy hands around me to lean on, so I didn't just flop into the mud.

Later I get chewed out by Solas, for "being irresponsible" and going places I'm not meant to. Like, jumping off the waterfall. I'm too shell-shocked to remind him that it was The Player who made me jump off, and that I would not even go near great drops and/or great bodies of water of my own volition.

 

It's bizarre how time seems fluid between gameplay and real-time. It's nice to know at least that the refugees at the crossroads aren't actually starving or freezing, and that the lady wife we never see is not going to choke to death before we can go and fetch his idiot mage son, Hyndel and/or the recipe for her medicine. (Her name is Lorelei and she's quite fine, thank you, just have this nasty cough that won't go away and that is eased only by her son's potions.)

Probably the most jarring experience for me so far is the 'teleportation' between camps. It's the same shortcut as in the game and I have to admit, it's better than fighting through a group of vicious beasts (bears. It's always bears,) just to get to a camp. So far we mostly roam on foot, but as we set up more and more camps, the jumping around begins. I get dizzy trying to follow where we are sometimes. And feel a bit guilty that I used to do the same.


	16. Picnic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have an extra chapter!  
> Exams are coming up so they're probably going to get rarer for a while.

Hinterlands, Day 3

 

We spend most of the third day collecting elfroot and blood lotus. It's tedious and involves a lot of jumping around. And we hunt rams and run the small errands. For XP and Influence and Power. The disorienting part today is being keenly aware of those statistics, even though I can no longer bring up the character stats page.

Meeting Ritts, the wayward scout in trouble, is a bit more awkward when, in a bit of paused time, the supposedly dead Eldredda sits up and complains about having to play the dead.

"This is the worst role!" she says and Ritts openly laughs at her. They get into a small scuffle, while I watch on with trepidation. I thought I was getting used to the weirdness of the game...

"You promised me a carrot," Bentley, apparently bored at never being ridden, appears out of nowhere, scaring the living daylight out of me.

"Gaaahh," I shriek. "I asked you not to do that!"

"And you promised a carrot. Guess we're both oath breakers."

"I haven't _seen_ a carrot yet," I huff. "I'll give you one as soon as I get one. Do you like apples too?"

"And sugar cubes," he says eagerly, sensing a bribe. "They do have them, you know. They just hide them!"

"Sugar is not good for horses," I say straight-faced. "But I'll try to get an especially sweet apple. _If_ I see any!"

Bentley huffs out a horsey breath and nibbles the side of my face. I giggle and shoo him away.

"Come on, we're supposed to be working."

"Ease up, Squish," Varric says, while he's helping himself to some of the wine Ritts and Eldredda were having with their picnic. "We're paused, there's no rush."

"How is it we can move around?" I ask curiously. Trying to figure out how the game works with reality mixing into it is giving me a headache, but I'm too unsettled by it not to try to figure it out anyway.

"We reset," Varric says and offers an untouched pastry to Cassandra. The Seeker scoffs, but after taking a second look, she accepts the offering and sits down to happily nibble at what I'm guessing is blueberry puff pastry. "It would be really uncomfortable if we didn't get to move around in the meantime."

"True," I sigh and look over the food spread. "Can I get a cherry one?" I ask hopefully.

"Sure, Squish," Varric chuckles. "There's plenty for everyone."


	17. Campsite Blues

It's only the second time I dream in the Fade, but I know it's the same fucked up dream as last time from the first moment. Lavellan, the _real_ Lavellan, is a strange creature viewed like this. Her obsession with perfection is creeping me out. And half the time I'm dreaming in her head!

When I wake again, gasping and disoriented, I'm not alone. Cassandra is sitting bolt upright and watching me warily as I collect my thoughts and figure out where I am. We're sharing a tent in the Hinterlands. We have almost completed all quests, long past the necessary Power we need to go to Val Royeaux, yet The Player is still having us run around doing _everything_. Like you could ever banish the Hinterlands if you do all available quests in the beginning…

At least we can gather all the elfroot we need. And we need a lot with our daily consumption of the Regeneration potions.

"Leigh?" Cassandra asks tentatively and I'm reminded that even in this messed up game reality, she's a Seeker of Truth first and foremost.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," I hurry to reassure her. "No demons, just... strange memories in the Fade. A bit upsetting is all."

Cassandra nods slowly and slips her sword back to the ground on her other side. When did she even draw it? I haven't noticed...

"I think I'm gonna get some fresh air," I say and wriggle out of my bedroll to pull my soft, leather breeches back on. My hands are shaking. I hope Cassandra won't notice them.

Outside, it's mostly dark. The campfire had died down and with dawn slowly beginning to paint the Eastern horizon a pale pinkish orange, no one bothered to reignite the flames. Solas is keeping last watch with a very put-upon expression edged on his face. It shouldn't be necessary to keep watch, but bears and other wild animals are still a problem and there _are_ the occasional bandits who get into their heads that if we're part of the game, we'll be provided for, so they should be able to steal from us without repercussion. (They are not exactly wrong, but they still end up leaving with broken bones and colorful bruises. Especially if they catch a pissed off Seeker on watch.)

"Good morning!" I try for cheerful in greeting Solas, the Grump, even if I'm not feeling it myself all that much. "How did you sleep? Any interesting stories you've seen in the Fade?"

"Like you are actually interested in them," Solas says and sips tea from the mug in his hands.

Oh-oh. He's drinking tea. That's never a good sign.

"Is everything all right?" I ask, my on worry forgotten, taken over by speculation over how the scene with Wisdom might play out in this made-up, game-mechanics-powered reality.

"Nothing is _'all right'_ ," Solas spits, "The whole world has been twisted into a mockery of itself! All because I failed in my mission, again. All because I trusted a foolish little..."

"Ah, Chuckles, don't be so gloomy this early in the morning," Varric says, appearing from their shared tent. "It's bad enough you always grumble about 'the end of the world'. When we're having such good fun this time around," he winks at me and I blush at the implied compliment. He's dressed only in loose-fitting sleeping pants and seeing me sitting with Solas, he grins and changes his path from joining us to heading to Cassandra's tent. At my gaping shock, he winks again, before slipping inside. Since no sounds of fighting or indignant shouting emerge immediately, I turn to Solas.

"Is that normal?"

Solas just sighs tiredly, the fight all gone out of him.

"Nothing is _normal_ in this world anymore..."


	18. Wistfully Yours

Finally, we're back in Haven, and we haven't even needed to ride all the way through the snowy mountain paths. We just popped back, arriving just outside the village gates.

"This," I motion to all of us, still fresh from our morning routines a few minutes before. "Is cool!"

"Convenient isn't it, Squish?" Varric chuckles before bidding us farewell and heading off to his own quarters. Everybody disperses, Cassandra leaving last.

"Get some rest, perhaps a bath," she instructs. "We might be leaving soon for Val Royeaux."

 

We don't though. Instead, we spend a whirlwind of a couple of more day jumping between Haven and the Hinterlands, fighting bears and rams and wolves, collecting herbs and metals, and crafting armor.

I recognize the pattern on the second turnaround and facepalm so hard. The Player is a newbie! They have to be. Val Royeaux barely needs so much preparation if you know what you're doing. There's what, one fight, when meeting Sera? And that's it! The rest is posturing and shopping and dialogue options.

Speaking of Sera, I miss her. Even though I haven't met her yet in this weird version of the Inquisition, I would've thought she'd be around. Like the very disgruntled Dorian "I hate the snow, my footsies are freezing" Pavus.

"Dorian?" I ask him when we are all having dinner together in the Singing Maiden one evening. "Where is Sera? Have you seen her? For that matter, where are all the others?"

"Lady Vivienne left for Val Royeaux, I believe. She detests being yanked to her place by the game, so she tends to be near when her scenes are coming up," Dorian says and sips his wine with a forlorn expression. "As for Sera... I believe she's hanging out with Bull on the Storm Coast. They prefer 'mayhem' instead of this frozen hellhole..."

Oh. I sense a story here.

"Would you rather have joined them perhaps?" I ask tentatively, schooling my features into polite interest, instead of a gleeful grin.

"And be in the constant rain? Near the incessant waves of the sea? And here I was thinking you're a smart girl, my dear,” Dorian scoffed.

I laughed.

"Point taken."

Dorian sighed and added very quietly so even I barely caught the words.

"I do wish he'd visit more often though..."


	19. Val Royeaux

Val Royeaux.... is _tiny!_ At least the parts we have access to. Considering how the Hinterlands felt even bigger, greener and more endlessly sprawling than in the game, Val Royeaux feels so much _smaller_.

The cutscene plays out as I've expected but as soon as it's over, the Templar, who slugged Revered Mother Hevarra, is running back to her side, worried that he hit her too hard.

"Geoffrey, we talked about this!" the Revered Mother says while letting the lad help her to her feet. "It's part of the scene, I can barely feel it."

"I'm so sorry, Revered Mother," the young man repeats anyway, clutching his helmet nervously in his hands.

I'm distracted by how young he looks. And blond. And pretty handsome, truth be told.

"Do they grow them that way...?" I murmur to myself, but Solas catches my words and chuckles.

"Perhaps," he says, equally quietly as we watch the scene. "It would certainly explain things."

I don't ask what ‘things’ it would explain, but I'm secretly glad that Solas seems less antagonistic lately.

After Cassandra gets a brief chance to give some pointers to the Envy demon currently playing the role of Lord Seeker Lucius, (a conversation that seems to happen as often as the one between the young Templar and the Revered Mother,) the game resets to the end of the cutscene and we’re off again. I'm reading messages tied to arrows, receiving invitations to soirees and running around the Summer Bazaar collecting small notes bundled in red cloth.

I'm giddy that I finally get to meet Sera. I wonder what her take on the game situation is. Is she freaked out about it? Or is she rolling with it like everybody else?

To my great disappointment, we don't get to talk outside the game. After recruiting her, she disappears and we go straight to Vivienne's dinner party. And by 'we' I mean 'I', as there's no brief pause, just straight to cut to black, and I'm walking into the party and chatting with snobby Orlesians and dealing with an idiotic Marquis. It's only after recruiting Vivienne as well, that the music fades and I sigh in relief.

"This is going to drive me insane," I say to the First Enchanter as I follow her back to the party.

"Don't be a drama queen, my dear," she dismisses my words. "We've been doing this for over a decade now. It really isn't that hard once you get used to it."

"Over a decade?" I stop mid-step. "How???"

Vivienne levels me with a disappointed look.

"By starting over again, of course," she says. "It is a... unique way to achieve immortality, I must admit, but it is worth it, I reassure you."

Worth it? Worth what?

Oh.

"How is Bastien?" I ask and Vivienne's features harden for a moment before assessing my expression. She must find my concern genuine because she answers honestly.

"He does not improve," she says quietly, turning from me to lead us on. "He has to play his own death over and over again. And in the meanwhile, his condition stays the same. Even with unlimited time, I cannot find a cure." Her steps are heavy but I'm not sure if she'd really given up or trying to convince herself that it might be time to let go.

"Some things are inevitable," I say gently.

Vivienne's smile is soft and sad when she glances back.

"Indeed."


	20. HOT BATH (or, water-based contemplation)

To my great relief and joy, we get a short respite from the game. My companions seem slightly embarrassed by my enthusiasm for the fancy food and the hot bath our stop at Vivienne’s estate affords. But come on! A hot bath! Running water! Indoor plumbing! Did I mention the hot bath?

It's the first time in weeks! Or... like, two weeks. Okay, one and a half week... Wait, how long _has_ it been since I found myself in the dungeons in Haven?

I contemplate the passage of time while soaking in a decently sized clawfoot tub. There's lavender scented shampoo and soaps. And there are cupcakes. The frilly kind. With extra colorful (and delicious) icing. I'm in heaven.

After sleeping in and waking up well into the day, I join Vivienne at breakfast around the time modern people would be having brunch. She smiles at the tirade of my thanks, like an indulgent parent.

"Just try to eat more slowly, my dear," she chides me when I try to comment on something with my mouth full of pancake and almost choke in my haste. "It would be most undignified to lose our beloved Herald to the evils of Morning Pancakes with Syrup."

I choke again a bit, this time from laughter.

"Yeah," I say once I get a hold of myself and wash down the offending bite with some tea. "I'm sorry, I think my tendency to comfort eat is kicking in."

Vivienne just smiles graciously.

"But would I actually be able to die? I mean," I add, gesturing with a piece of syrup-drenched pancake. "I have died during combat at least a few dozen times. Maybe even a hundred or more. Is it possible for the MC to truly die?"

Vivienne's brows furrow and her expression darkens. It is a different voice that answers, however.

"It is possible," Solas says, arriving for breakfast still earlier than Varric or Cassandra, (although I'd bet the latter had been up since dawn.) "We have lost a few of the Inquisitors to... outside influences."

_Outside influences?_ Does he mean…, deleted game files maybe?

"I thought no status is permanent here?" I state, but my hesitance turns it into a question.

"No injury or death during gameplay, no," Solas says and hesitates over a plate of frilly cakes completely preoccupied with choosing the perfect one. "But that doesn't mean that people are invincible."

I slump back in my chair. It doesn't make sense. I've seen Cassandra punch bears, literally punch bears in the maw, to deter them from hanging around our camp, outside of gameplay. Is that just how cool she is then?

What about the people who are sick? Or infected with red lyrium? Samson seemed to be in... krhm, a very fit form. Even with his eyes turned creepy red-ringed from consuming red lyrium. And Cullen hasn’t complained about headaches once!

I feel like I'm missing something. And I need to figure out the rules of the game sooner rather than later.

"What happens after the game ends?" I ask suddenly and Solas freezes in mid-reach for a purple and ice-blue confection.

"When the game ends," Vivienne says, "we start again from the beginning, of course."

No. That may be the case for them, but Solas' expression, before he manages to school his feature back into polite disinterest and slight annoyance, says otherwise.

They start again from the beginning... _They_ start again.

But what happens to the Inquisitor?


	21. Hiding in Books

I remain in a contemplative mood for the rest of our stay. I end up holed up in Vivienne's library for most of the time, reading and thinking about what I've learned about this version of Thedas and the Inquisition so far.

Luckily, I can read Common just fine. It's not written in the Latin alphabet, but it still translates somehow when I'm trying to read. Perhaps the ability to read is part of being a character in the game.

I read up on basics like Magic Theory, Alchemy 101 and Chantry History. (I've never been good at history and even now it serves mostly as a distraction.)

A distraction from the dawning horror that the game might end, at least for me, with the complete erasure of my character... my self...

I shudder and close the current tome I'm hiding behind with a loud thump.

This is ridiculous. It's barely the beginning of the game. I cannot be sure that such paranoid thoughts are even correct.

_I should talk to Solas._

I'm terrified of Solas.

It's not even the usual MGiT terror of knowing him as Fen'Harel. Everybody seems to know his history here. Most spirits and demons call him Wolf, or Old Wolf. Sometimes Varric jokes about how he knows two Fennies. (I briefly wonder if Fenris was in a good mood when he heard the nickname 'Fenny', since Varric still has all his parts... that I know of... _*shudder*_ )

My mind often takes such detours. I can't seem to concentrate on anything too long these days. Unless we're in-game. And then, everything is simple and structured and intuitive. At least it feels like it.

I have a running bet going with Varric that the Player has been reading up on some walkthroughs because we seem to have less trouble and get more work done efficiently. Neither of us is sure how we can prove the theory, but it's fun to make bets about silly things like that. More fun than thinking about what's still to come.

The staged nature of the gameplay takes the edge off the horrible events, but it's still intimidating to think about fighting Demons and Red Templars and crazed Tevinter Mages. The fact that this time _everybody_ is aware of the upcoming events, has lived them as many times as I've played through them, doesn't ease much of my worry either.

Everything is strange, nothing makes sense, and I feel like going insane in the comfort of Vivienne's estate.

When we finally bid goodbye, it's a shameful relief. Even if we're going to have to travel back to Haven on horseback, even if we'll just collect herbs on the way and fight off stupid highwaymen, it's a relief to be _doing_ something again.

I didn't think I would miss the gameplay so soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos are love, comments are life! <3<3<3


	22. Marathon Gaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do plot runaway from me like this? This was supposed to be a fun, light-hearted crackfic...

I don't get to talk to Solas.

I don't get to talk to _anybody_.

We barely make it half a day's journey when the game turns on again and I'm walking through the doors of the Chantry at Haven, Cassandra hot on my heels and the Advisors nicely lined up to receive us. It's a blur from there.

We talk, we meet new people, we go fighting, we go recruiting. I "meet" Krem, we recruit Blackwall at the Hinterlands. We "meet" the Chargers at the Storm Coast and fight Venatori. We fight the Blades of Hessarian.

I don't get to do _anything_ of my own volition.

How could I ever think that I missed gameplay? Gameplay sucks! Everything is going according to some higher power (the Player) and I can't even nudge things towards better choices. And this time there are no pauses at all. We're going through the events at a seemingly breakneck-pace.

The first pause is when I'm back at Haven, leaning over the Wartable, and about to decide whom to ask for help with closing the Breach.

During the longest day of my life, I've recruited most of the rest of the companions, fought a giant, wiped out a group of fanatics, met Alexius and Felix and Dorian, rescued the lost Scouts in the Mire and was ready to get help with the Breach and finally close the damned thing.

I was exhausted. And I was disoriented by my body's lack of exhaustion. And I couldn't even _talk_ to people beyond the dialogue allowed by the game and the Player. I wanted out!

I wanted...

But the choice has been made. We side with the Templars and I wanna scream in frustration. But I don't get a moment to rest, things are moving even faster.

After talking to the nobles at the gates of Therinfal Redoubt, everything feels distant. I fight, I talk, I win. We lose Barris but there's no time to be reassured by his offscreen presence. We close the Breach. We celebrate at Haven. Corypheus comes and everything’s lost.

And after talking to Solas, on the snowy mountainside, lost in the Blizzard, everything whites out and...

 

I'm standing at the gates of Val Royeaux, ready to talk to the clerics.


	23. Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exams are hell.

I flop down on Solas' couch finally, _finally_ getting some rest. It’s only the fourth time we made it to Skyhold after all…

Corypheus, who's been sitting there, reading, ruffles my hair when I list to the side. I'm too exhausted to be able to sit normally.

"Please, tell me it isn't always this bad," I beg him.

"How's your wrist?" Cory asks instead of placating me.

"Fine," I sigh. "It heals every time, no problem."

I'm still a bit weirded out that everybody seems to be friends here.

Well, I say 'friends', but I mean not enemies and in weird - compared to what I'm used to from the games - groups.

"Elfy! Think quick!" Sera shouts from two storeys up and I dodge out of her way on reflex. I roll around the floor giggling after she lands on the spot where I was just sitting and proceeds to get tickled to death by Cory.

"Stop it, Corypheums!! EEEEEEeeeeekk," Sera screeches when Cory gets her in a really sensitive spot, and ends up rolling down onto the floor next to me. I only spare her more tickles because I'm too tired to move any more.

"I cannot believe I'm surrounded by full-grown adults," Solas says, sighing and rubbing the bridge of his nose, like some put-upon hahren who needs to corral the little ones.

"Oh, let them have their fun, Old Wolf," Corypheus says, chuckling. It's a bit disturbing that he sounds like himself, even without the crazy Ancient Magister ravings.

"I FOUND IT!!!" Dorian shouts out of nowhere, almost falling over the upstairs railing as he leans out to trust a huge tome into our view. I giggle, he looks funny viewed upside down. "Cory, I found it!!"

I have to try really hard not to slip into hysterical giggles. It's so surreal to have Dorian and Corypheus be good friends and fellow enthusiasts over Ancient Tevinter history. And to have Solas be the grudgingly admired expert of _all_ Thedosian history and magical theories.

Sera makes gagging sounds when Dorian starts to read aloud from the dusty tome he found on ancient Tevinter non-blood magic rituals. It is an impressive find, I must admit.

"Come on, Sera," I peel myself off the floor and offer her a hand up. "Let's leave the big heads to their academical endeavours and raid the kitchens for some cupcakes."

"Yaayyy, cupcakes!" Sera squeals and bounces to her feet in one smooth motion. Damn, I envy her athletic abilities and the ease with which she moves. I'm learning to be more "fluid" too, but I'm far from it yet.

"Cupcakes?" Solas looks up from his notes and gives us an expression full of tentative longing. "You mean like those tiny frilly cakes they sell at the marketplace in Val Royeaux?"

I have to lean on Sera not to fall back over I'm giggling so hard.

"Yes, Solas, like those," I get out finally and wink at him as we leave. "I'll make sure to bring you a couple too."

He's collected himself after being laughed at, but he answers my promise with a soft smile and a small, almost shy nod.

"Thank you, da'len."


End file.
